


Playing Doctor

by MommaAppleJuice



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Cutie Pie Petey, Everybody is Getting Hurt Up in Here, Health Shit, M/M, Must Protect Him at All Costs, No Underage Allowed, OOC Peeps, Peter is 22 and Wade is Like 30 Something, Zero Self-Perseverance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2020-04-23 04:04:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19143202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MommaAppleJuice/pseuds/MommaAppleJuice
Summary: Spider-Man and Deadpool keep meeting - only because they're idiots that can't go to a hospital like normal people.





	1. Poor Petey

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little side project, nothing too serious right now. Depends on how it's received, I guess. They're a little out of character cause I suck, so bare with meee.

  Peter's been walking around aimlessly for a bit, body set on autopilot. His self-perseverance seems to be broken too, seeing as he can't bring himself to care about the pain he's currently in. He's been bleeding steadily from his shoulder since he'd plucked out the bullet, as well as his side from where another had grazed him. None of Peter's injuries had phased him until the adrenaline had worn off. 

  He'd been caught up in preventing a bank robbery when the robbers' reinforcements had rolled up, opening fire on the whole area. Luckily, no one was too badly hurt, but he hadn't even realized he'd been hit. He couldn't focus on himself, he had others to save. As soon as he'd had them all knocked-out and webbed up, he staggered a bit, feeling a little dizzy. He shot off a web from his spinneret and swung away from the scene. Once he was far enough, Peter landed in an abandoned alleyway before scanning himself for injuries. The pain in his upper body flared up, specifically in his shoulder. When he took a look at it, it was bad, and he saw the glint of metal from the overhanging street light. Peter dug the bullet out of his shoulder, biting his lip so hard it bled to keep himself from crying out.

  Logically, he knew he should go back to his shitty little apartment and treat himself. But tonight, he didn't care. He basked in the heat of his pain, a stark reminder that he was still alive after everything he's been through. Honestly, he didn't want to be, but he was needed, and that's enough to keep him grounded. Right?

  Tonight, not really. He sways and nearly falls as he wanders. It's pretty dark and desolate by now, him being the only person around that he could see. Not saying much, since black dots blocked parts of his vision. He couldn't breathe too good, so he hiked up the mask above his mouth and sucked in air greedily. Everything felt stuffy and hot, the air growing heavier as he stumbled. Unable to catch himself, the twenty-year old fell straight onto the dirty concrete, letting out a groan. All he could see before passing out was a blur of red and black.

 

 

  Peter awoke suddenly, jerking into a sitting position. He ripped his mask off his face and panted, his nightmare still lingering on his mind. Once he'd controlled his breathing, he noticed he wasn't in his own bed, nor his room. He still had his mask, but he'd been stripped and put into baggy pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Pulling down the collar, Peter took in the bandages, confused. When he heard footsteps approaching the door, he tugged his mask back on quickly right as the door opened. 

  What Peter hadn't expected was Deadpool to be standing in the doorway with a plate of pancakes and orange juice in hand. "Spidey-babe! You're awake. That was some nasty scrap you got into, but Papa Deadpool patched you right up, and now you can regain your strength with my awesome fucking pancakes!" He exclaimed, scurrying over to Peter's bedside.

  Peter had encountered the anti-hero on a normal basis, a weird... friendship, if he could call it that. At first, they would butt heads constantly, Peter often starting things due to his inhumane methods. Eventually, Deadpool agreed to at least limit his weekly kill quota. Once they knew each other better, they'd exchange corny jokes and puns on a good day, and patrolled together every now and then. DP flirted with him as often as he could, which was both flattering and annoying, considering he did it at the most inconvenient times as well. He enjoyed the ex-merc's presence much more.

  "Did you..?" Peter trailed off, motioning to his mask. DP shook his head vigorously. "See your gorgeous mug? Tempting as it was, no, I just patched you up." He replied, handing him the plate and placing the glass on the nightstand. "Thanks, DP." He said, giving a smile he couldn't see. The anti-hero gave him finger-guns. "No prob. Bathroom is the first door on the left, I'll be in the kitchen~." He said, before skipping off to do whatever. 

  As Peter ate the pancakes, he glanced around the room, presumably Deadpool's. Other than the stray clothing item or weapon, it was surprisingly clean. Once he finished his plate, Peter placed it to the side, swinging his feet around to the side of the bed and cautiously standing. Other than a small sting and tug, his wound was fine. Mentally thanking his healing factor, Pete wandered to the bathroom, returning after relieving himself and washing his face. He picked up the plate off of the nightstand and carried it towards where he heard Deadpool's bustling. 

  Entering the kitchen, DP was humming along to a song he didn't know, dressed in a frilly pink apron as he washed the dishes. Peter shuffled his feet awkwardly, feeling a little weird about seeing the older man in his space. It felt strangely... intimate. The ex-merc spun on his heel when he spotted the awkward Spidey out of the corner of his eye. "I'll take that! Your costume is on the stool, but I wanna talk for a sec, if that's okay?" He said. Peter nodded slowly, picking up the suit. "I'll be back." He murmured, hurrying back to the bathroom to change into it. Deadpool had washed out the stain and sewn the rips for him, and he felt a surge of gratitude and a little affection for the man. Peter returned to the kitchen and plopped onto the stool, waiting as DP wiped his hands off on his apron before hanging it onto a hook.

  "Now, Spidey. I know we aren't the best of friends, buuut I'm a teensy bit worried that you're neglecting your health. I mean, not only are you scrawny as a string bean, but you also lost quite a bit of blood when I found you. Seeing as it was abooout an hour since that robbery and a few blocks away, you had ample time to go home and patch yourself up. Why didn't you?" He asked, his previously light-hearted tone replaced by a more serious and worried one. Peter looked down at his hands, feeling small under his gaze. "I don't know, I just.. didn't want to go home." He hugged his arms self-consciously. "My body has a fast metabolism, and I'm not exactly made of money, so.." He didn't know why he was telling him all of this, so he shut up. Deadpool's expression shifted, though he wasn't sure if it was concern or something else.  "Aw, baby boy.. if you need something, you can always visit Papa Pool. I'd never pass up on an opportunity to see you again." He winked. Peter couldn't help but snort, relaxing a bit. "Thanks. Likewise. See you around." He replied, giving a two-fingered salute before exiting through the open window (rather coolly, he'd say).


	2. Returning the Favor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so imagine Ryan Reynolds in his thirties and little cutie Tom Holland, that's the vibe I'm aiming for. Sorry for the shitty Wade POV, I'm trying my best. But, enjoy!

  It'd been a few weeks since Peter had seen Wade. The ex-merc tended to disappear every now and then, so he wasn't too worried. No, he definitely wasn't worried about him. Not in the slightest. And if you asked him if he swung by Wade's every now and then to check, he'd deny it fiercely.

  Peter was pulled from his thoughts when he heard a series of gunshots, and leaped into action. He swung from building to building, landing on a rooftop once he'd reached the approximate location of the pops. Peering of the ledge, his eyes widened when he saw Deadpool laying crumpled on the ground, mutilated and bloody, surrounded by various gang members. While they had their eyes trained on DP, Spider-Man lowered himself behind them using webs, dropping behind them before standing up to his full height. "Why don't you pick on someone who can fight back?" He retorted casually, causing them to spin around and curse in Spanish.

  "This has nothing to do with you. Why don't you go help an old lady cross the street?" One of them said in a heavy accent, laughter erupting amongst the group. Peter rolled his eyes. "Everybody's a critic." He grumbled, before swiftly raising his hand and firing web onto the chatty guy's face, who grabbed at it in a panic. The rest of the members held him at gunpoint, shouting more profanities as they fired at him. Peter dodged their bullets with practiced grace, wasting no time to incapacitate each baddie and web them up for the police to take care. Peter glanced over at DP worriedly; he still hasn't regenerated yet. He knew it wasn't worth worrying over, but he couldn't help it. Glancing around for anyone else, he gathered the limp man in his arms and carried him off to Deadpool's apartment.

  Upon entering, he shoved the empty taco wrappers onto the ground before gently placing him onto it. Cleaning up the area a little, Peter went into the bathroom and retrieved the first-aid kit, returning to the kind-of-dead man. Peter then took the time to clean out his wounds, not bothering with a bandage since he'd be up and about momentarily. Still, he wanted to make sure there was no complications. He left his suit on out of respect; he knew DP was self-conscious about his skin, taking extra care to hide it when they hung out. 

  Once he was finished, Peter threw away the used products and tidied up DP's nearby area out of habit. He also tried to clean the blood off of himself from Deadpool, but ended up giving up and just decided to finish the job when he got home. Speaking of which, it was pretty late, and he had to get ready to class early the next day. Scribbling down a short note onto a napkin, Peter glanced back at the now unconscious body on the couch before bustling out the door.

\------------

Wade's POV

  Wade shot up off the couch, nearly falling over in his rush to take in where he was. Eyebrows furrowing, he realized he was home, relaxing a bit more with his familiar surroundings. He was still confused though. Where was that gang? They'd cornered him when he'd been out on a chimichanga run, something about a past hit he'd done on one of their boys. Not that he cared, it was just pretty disappointing that he didn't get any, not to mention now his suit's all bloody and musty. However, he didn't feel as sore as normal.

  Wade climbed off the couch and stretched, grunting in satisfaction as his body cracked and snapped. Heading over to the kitchen for some food, he spied a note on the counter and swiped it up, skimming over it. A small grin took over his face as he read Spidey's note. "'You should really be more careful, getting jumped like that. And clean up after yourself better, alright? I can't clean your wounds if I'm tripping over taco wrappers and your guns. Bye I guess, Spider-Man. PS, if they give you anymore trouble, you know who to call.'" He read aloud, chuckling affectionately. His boxes commented on the maternal aura radiating off of the note, but Wade ignored them. "Wow, Spidey cares about little ole me~? I'm honored." He said to no one in particular, heading off to his bathroom for a much needed shower.

\-------------

Peter's POV

  He didn't get home until around 2am, and didn't fall asleep until 3. He woke up around 7, and bustled around his apartment to get ready for another long day. As Peter brushed his teeth, he thought over his schedule for the day in his head. He had classes until around 3pm, then work at the Stark Tower until 9. They were close to a breakthrough, and needed extra hands on deck to accelerate the process. Peter didn't mind, money was money. Pulling on a zip-up jacket over his science pun shirt, sneakers, and his battered Legend of Zelda backpack, Peter was out the door. He rubbed his eyes from behind his glasses tiredly. Patrolling yesterday was a bad idea, but he had a hard time regretting it when he'd been able to help Deadpool out. While he could've handled it himself, it made Peter feel a bit better knowing he'd been able to return the favor to the ex-merc. 

  Deciding to grab a coffee before he went to school that morning, Peter ordered something cold and caffeinated, before sitting at one of the tables and waiting. It was pretty busy in here, but it was the only one around with decent drinks, so Peter didn't mind waiting. However, his attention was pulled up from his phone when someone approached his table. "Sorry to bother you, but do you mind if I sit here? The rest of the tables are taken." The man asked. Peter glanced over him; he was pretty covered up, wearing a hoodie with the hood drawn over his head and a surgical mask covering his face. Peter shrugged. "Not at all, go ahead." He gestured to the other seat at his table, the tall man uttering a small thanks as they waited in silence for their orders. Peter couldn't help but glance up again at the slightly intimidating man sitting across from him, flushing and looking away when they'd made eye contact. His eyes were a friendly warm chocolate brown, squinting in amusement. 

  "Like what you see? I know, quite the looker I am." The guy said jokingly, taking Peter's staring in stride. Peter did a weird, awkward giggle, causing him to chuckle. "I'm Wade." He said, holding out a gloved hand. Peter took it in his in a handshake. "Peter. Sorry for staring, I'm sure you get it often enough." He assumed, offering a small smile. Wade's hand was much larger than his, covering it almost completely. "It's alright." He said, before one of the baristas shouted their names over the noise of the crowd. Peter went to stand, but Wade waved it off. "I'll get them. Be back in a sec." He said, before going up to the counter and retrieving their cups. He returned to his seat and placed Peter's black cold brew in front of him, sipping on his own frappe. If it could even be called that, seeing as it was drowned in caramel and some other sugary things. 

  "Looks like diabetes in a cup." He commented with a humorous smile, causing Wade to laugh. "Yeah, it's the only way I can drink coffee. I don't know how you can stand that." He replied, gesturing to the black coffee with a grimace. Peter shrugged, sipping it. "Not a very big sweet tooth. I prefer to actually taste the coffee." He retorted. They talked a little bit more before Peter glanced down at his watch and stood up quickly. "Fuck- hey, nice talking with you, but I-I've gotta get to class." He stammered, pulling on his backpack. "Wait a sec."Wade said, scribbling onto a napkin before handing it over to Peter. "Here, let's hang out again, yeah?" He said after he'd grabbed Wade's number, the tall man strolling out of the cafe with a wave over his shoulder. What Peter didn't know was how Wade was gushing to his boxes over how cool he felt in that moment, feeling hella suave. Peter kicked himself back into gear and rushed out the door, jogging towards the college with his drink in his hand.


	3. Tired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I'm a garbage human who knows nothing of consistent updates C:

Peter exited the classroom with a quiet, tired sigh, carrying his laptop case under his arm. Even his caffeine-filled coffee couldn't keep him awake all class period. He needed some actual sleep, not coffee At least, that's what Ned and MJ kept telling him, and he didn't disagree. He couldn't rest now though, he had two essays from Biology due in a few days he'd been putting off, not to mention crime rates had been steadily increasing. No, he had to keep going. And the note from Wade in his pocket didn't exactly help his overcrowded brain.

  Since he'd finished his classes for the day and didn't have work until 5, Peter grabbed his backpack before heading back to the cafe from earlier. Due to it being sometime in the afternoon, it was much calmer than it'd been in the morning. He ordered a grilled cheese and another cold brew before sitting down at his usual spot and pulling out his laptop. Turning it on, Peter glanced out of the window distractedly.

  He still had pick up some groceries on his way home, whenever that would actually happen. I mean, you never really know when people are gonna need their friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. And he REALLY had to finish those essays before anything. Oh, and he couldn't forget to do some calculations for his financing. Pete was pretty sure he didn't have enough for groceries to last the whole week since they'd bumped up his rent, but if he continued skipping breakfast and cut back on ordering coffee, he should just get by. 

  Finishing his sandwich, Peter managed to finish one of the essays before he had to leave for work, arriving at the office just on time. He then worked until 10 after they promised him a small bonus to work the extra hour. After work, he returned to his apartment to eat a light dinner and change into his suit, then back out he went. 

  He zipped around town per usual, holding back a yawn. However, he landed quickly when he spotted someone getting cornered. Landing on the concrete, Peter quickly dispatched the would-be assaulter, assisting the shaken woman home with a few kind words. The night continued on like that for another two hours before he was taking a break, sitting up on a roof while swinging his legs. A thud behind him made him jump before he relaxed, seeing a familiar anti-hero sitting beside him. "Heya, Spidey-babe. You're looking as handsome as ever!" DP gushed, looking him up and down comically. Spider-Man huffed in amusement.

  "Thanks. You wouldn't be saying that if you could see how dark my eyebags are." Peter replied half-jokingly. "You'll always be my handsome spider. Oh, as well as my handsome hero! I wish I had been conscious to see you cradling my limp body, holding me ever so close as you cleaned my wounds!" He exclaimed, hugging himself in excitement. Spider-Man laughed softly. "You're welcome, but don't expect this to be a regular thing. I'm just returning the favor." He brushed off his thanks. 

  Deadpool hummed. "If it helps you sleep at night. Speaking of sleeping, you should be heading home and getting some rest, I can handle anymore baddies through the night." He insisted, gesturing. Peter stood. "I will. You should too, it's late." He said, going to swing away but paused. "See you later." He added, before jumping off the roof, webbing himself to his shitty apartment. He dressed in some nightclothes before collapsing onto his bed and falling asleep almost immediately.


	4. Can't Stop Thinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a bit of a filler, I was halfway through with this one when I got an idea and I'm just gonna run with it. next one will be actually interesting. :)

  Another day, another shit show. Peter couldn't seem to stop sighing these days. He pulled himself out of bed at the sound of his alarm clock. What he wouldn't give to sleep in sometime, this week had been so crazy and it was only Wednesday. 

  He tugged his jacket on over his science shirt, a proton going, 'I feel positive today!'. Truth be told, he hadn't had any time nor money to get his laundry done. He'd finally resorted to digging back into his nerdy shirts from high school, a little small, but manageable for the time being. Peter'd almost missed the paper, tumbling out of his pocket. He scooped it up with a groan, inspecting it before a small blush gathered on his ears. 

  It was Wade's number, the guy from the coffee shop. He'd seemed really cool, friendly even. Peter glanced over at his phone in contemplation. Should he? He shook his head. "Get it together, Parker." He murmured to himself, placing the note back into his pocket as he got ready to head to work. He grabbed his things and headed out the door, ignoring his rumbling stomach as he walked down the street. 

Peter tried to distract himself with people watching while he walked to work. That woman was talking animatedly about her new puppy, that man looked like he hadn't slept. Relatable. A few teenagers hung around the alleyways, juuling and doing whatever stupid shit kids do nowadays. His mind drifted back to the note in his pocket without his control. What would it hurt? The worst thing that could happen was that Wade would ignore him, never reply nor speak to him ever again. No big deal.

At the same time, he knew it would wreck his already crippling low self-esteem. Even someone that most people couldn't stand would reject him. And just like that, he'd talked himself out of messaging Wade.

Arriving at work, Peter threw himself into it, spending the better part of his day typing away at a computer rather than creating. While the paperwork was boring, money was money. Plus, the repetitive things were easier for his slow brain to keep up with. The lack of caffeine wasn't helping his productivity. He stood from his chair and went to the break room, brewing himself a cup of coffee.

Peter wasn't a fan of hot coffee, but he needed something to boost him through the rest of the day. While the coffee machine was doing its thing, he peered down at his phone for a bit. He scrolled through a few tweets and what not before shoving it into his jacket pocket. Once again, he was reminded of the number in his pocket when his hand brushed it. Determined to ignore it and with his styroform cup in hand, he retreated to his station and tried to refocus on the screen for a while longer.

He probably would've been able to, had a certain Merc with a Mouth hadn't shown up. Though, it was for good reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi I suck, I've been dealing with a lot of shit these past few months but I'm trying to update during this probably short-lived inspirational time. thanks for reading!


End file.
